Okay, Here it is

Albina has been bugging me for a long time to start writing down some of my stories. Joe just got off the phone after talking to my grandmother (Nana). I'm sure all who read this know of her eccentricities (the nicest word I can think of to say that Nana is a fucking lunatic). Joe turned down her "kind" invitation to the casino for breakfast this coming Sunday. Instead, she is going to call Doug and ask him to come and get some stuff she has gathered from her "things" (nice word for mildew-smelling, antique garbage) for his new house. Um-hm.

Let me explain my feelings about Nana's things. About 5 years ago, my friend, Stephanie, and I, went to visit Nana in her home in scenic Joliet. After forcing us to go to the casino for yet another crab leg buffet (where retrieving the crab meat requires not a special fork, but a magnifying glass), she took us back to her house and proceeded to bring several (probably a dozen or so) artifacts from around her home to show to Stephanie. It is important, at this point of the story, to understand that Stephanie was born and raised in Germany. English is her second language, and though she speaks English better than most of the high school students with whom I have had contact, she sometimes has trouble pinpointing the exact word to express her thoughts.

Nana had wandered off to put some of the "treasures" away and said to Stephanie in parting, "Oh, they are going to have such fun going through here when I die." I leaned over and whispered to Stephanie that when she dies, we are going to go through there with a gallon of gasoline and a match.

Stephanie had the good grace to looked shocked while she tried not to laugh. She said, "Oh, Kristen. There's a word for that!" I said, "Yeah. It's 'arson'." Stephanie was then quiet for some 3 hours while she tried to figure out the word she really wanted to say. By that time, we had met my parents and brothers at Garcia's for dinner and drinks. During a brief pause in the dinner table conversation, Stephanie blurted out: "MORBID!" The whole family just looked at her and I explained, "We were at Nana's."

The family just nodded in understanding and the conversation continued as though uninterupted by Stephanie's pronouncement.

I imagine that Doug will graciously load his truck with all of Nana's stuff, drive off waving happily, and then he will stop at the nearest dumpster, back up, and unload the said cargo. If he's smart, he will anyway. Otherwise, his new house that currently smells of fresh sawdust, lumber and paint, will soon smell like the inside of Aldi's after a good rainstorm.